


An Unassuming Gift

by Sippingspringtea (mylifesahell)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Animal Transformation, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Curse Breaking, Curses, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Self-Indulgent, but its not explicit, but with a twist, inspired by the selkie myth, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifesahell/pseuds/Sippingspringtea
Summary: And the wolf pelt remains glinting in the firelight. Remaining unassuming and beautiful.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 139
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	An Unassuming Gift

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are love and life!

It begins with an unassuming gift. One that Geralt outright refuses. He had already been paid for upholding his end of a contract. He needed no other gift. But, the elderly woman who offers it will not let him refuse. So he takes it, and when he does the woman smiles. She says that it had been a treasure and prize for warriors. A way for them to gain honour, making them master hunters and killers. Something glints in the woman’s eyes when she says this. Years of witnessing untold carnage hanging just behind her smiling face. 

He thanks her and leaves. 

He's unsure how an old white wolf pelt had remained so pristine. If it had been passed down and worn over and over again. But the white fur is beautiful and shiny. As if a wolf had only recently been skinned, the pride of its pack. 

Geralt absently runs his fingers through the pelt. If his medallion hums for a second he doesn't notice. 

He returns to the inn hastily. Knowing that his companion would worry the floorboards if he doesn't show soon. Opening the door to their shared room, Jaskier immediately exclaims his name in relief. The bard launches himself at the witcher, lifting him up and spinning them both happily. Geralt grunts but his smile betrays him, as the bard sets him down. The Katakan had been a tough fight. He only now realized he'd been gone longer than anticipated. 

After some help to get his armour off, a warm bath, some good ale, and a little prodding Geralt finally tells him about the battle. Jaskier is ecstatic furiously writing down the details. But, to be fair the bard knows how to butter him up. As he finishes his tale he pulls out the wolf pelt. It looked just as pretty as when he received it, looking silvery in the firelight. 

"It’s beautiful," Jaskier whispers, running his fingers through the pelt. " Certainly a gift for a job well done." 

Geralt preens at that. Jaskier is pleased. Jaskier is happy. He smiles at the bard's praise.

Where had that come from?

For a moment he feels hazy, the wolf pelt glints in the light, taking up his attention. A heavy humming noise fills his ears. 

Louder and louder it gets drowning out any other sound. Something digs it claws into his head. 

He wants to... 

he wants to... 

hunt... hunt? 

Why? The hunt is over. 

**_He's hungry._ **

Jaskier asks him a question he doesn't hear. But when the bard shakes him his eyes snap away from the pelt. 

" Geralt?" Jaskier asks. " are you alright? You completely zoned out." 

" Sorry, Dandelion." Geralt answers shaking his head. " I'm just tired." 

" Of course." He says tone understanding. " it's been a long several days. I shouldn't keep you up like this. It's selfish of me." 

Geralt disagrees. He likes talking to Jaskier, didn't realize that exhaustion would hit him this badly. It wasn't Jaskier's fault. 

" You're not being selfish." Geralt whispers as he slides into bed, next to Jaskier. 

Jaskier snorts. 

" Geralt, you don't need to lie to make me feel happy," Jaskier responds, beginning to drifting off. "Your health comes first."

Geralt falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

The wolf pelt lays forgotten near his things. 

The end of autumn is fast approaching. Geralt and Jaskier had already parted ways. He wished Jaskier could travel with him up the treacherous slopes to Kaer Morhen. Jaskier had a strange ability to keep him grounded. Out of his own head. The trip will be long without his constant chatter. But Jaskier doesn't really belong in a Witchers keep. Too vibrant and loud for the old gray stones. Jaskier belongs in the spring. With the warmth that he brings. Jaskier is what Geralt looks forward to with the change of the season. 

He wishes for the bard to be by his side. He wishes it desperately.

.

.

He really doesn't notice at first. 

He wakes to find the snowy white wolf pelt at his side even though he had wrapped it and set it in his pack. He probably just misplaced it. 

Some mornings when he wakes his teeth feel too big. He finds himself accidentally ripping and tearing the soft tissue of his mouth. His incisors feel sharper. He growls at his own stupid fragility. Perhaps it's just a side effect of a decoction he had taken? 

Maybe. 

Stranger things begin to happen. He's hungry. Often. Too often. Witchers can go some time without food, but he'd never felt it like this. It gnaws at his stomach. Filling him with the anxiety of when the next meal will come. Geralt finds himself chasing the scents of animals in the undergrowth de-railing himself and Roach. Off the road into the forest.

Geralt begins to hear a low hum in his ears. 

When he crosses paths with a bear. The hum grows louder. 

The bear does not seem to fear him. It should. 

As the large brown bear charges at him, Geralt takes out his steel sword and snarls at the beast. And the hum turns into a buzz and rises to a crescendo. 

He sees red. 

And then he doesn't see at all. 

Geralt comes back to himself in waves. 

Blood stains and cakes his hands. He's unsure how it got there. 

Thick patches of fur and flesh had found their way under his fingernails. 

Pieces of the stringy tendon have gotten lodged in his gums, but he still continues to rip, chew, and swallow the meat in a frenzy. 

The bear has been dead for some time. 

The meat is delicious.

He eats until he is satiated. The best feast he has had in a long time. The body of the bear is now cold. Something in Geralt’s heart grips with fear...something is wrong. He tears himself away from the bear completely attempting to wipe away the blood. He snarls at it. But it only makes it worse.

He doesn't remember anything. He doesn't remember when he ripped into the bear. When he felt hot red blood gush into his wanting mouth. He feels sick.

When he finally stumbles his way to Roach, the wolf pelt wrapped neatly on her saddle is also caked with blood. He doesn't remember dirtying it. 

Geralt goes to wash off the blood. 

The journey continues.

.

.

He begins to lose time. 

When the humming grows loud he blacks out only to find himself bloody and naked. The wolf pelt is gently draped around his shoulders. 

His mouth tastes like death, and he's overly full. 

Geralt throws up. 

He denies that there's something wrong. He's just tired, he's sleepwalking. He ate something bad. He's fine. 

Geralt goes to find his clothes and armour that had been scattered about. He picks up his clothes with overly long and sharp fingernails. 

He elects to ignore this fact.

After some time everything smells like blood.

.

.

Geralt reaches the keep, and relief sweeps through him. Winter was just about nipping at his heels when he arrived. Glad to have missed the storms, he contentedly enters the keep. Vesemir greets him warmly, but concern enters his eyes. 

" Wolf, you look like death." Vesemir was never one to mince words. He says exactly what he means.

" Its been a long journey." Geralt answers, " Looking forward to some well-deserved rest." 

Vesemir nods eyeing him over before helping him with his things. 

Geralt feels only warmth and happiness to be with his family again. Eskel had arrived early and had already started drinking without him. And Lambert for the third time this year was late. But the winter at Kaer Morhen is never boring, and Geralt feels rejuvenated. There is no humming, there is no blood, only a warm drink to be shared near a fire with those he cares for. He feels safe.

His teeth don't feel too big. 

His nails are not overly long. 

There is no hunger or blood lust gnawing at him.

And the wolf pelt stayed where it was supposed to be, wrapped up neatly with the rest of his things.

.

.

Geralt was meant to go to Novigrad in the spring. To meet Jaskier there. But he never made it. 

The humming returned the first week of his journey. And stayed. 

The wolf pelt remained on his person always. 

Louder and louder it got, overwhelming his thoughts. Overwhelming everything. And after a while, Geralt didn't think much at all.

He wanted to hunt...

**_He was hungry_ **.

**_Kill._ **

**_Feed._ **

**_Sleep._ **

On occasion, something would nag on him. He was searching for something... someone? 

He thought he belonged somewhere...

He had a home...

Where was his pack?

.

.

A great white wolf roams the forests of Velen. The Local fauna die quickly picked off by this predator. A master hunter and killer. Any brave man would be honoured to be compared to a great beast like that. Or any brave Witcher. 

.

.

Jaskier begins to suspect something is wrong when Geralt doesn't show after two weeks. And he begins to fear after three. 

Would it be stupid to venture into the woods looking for Geralt? Some would say yes, but Jaskier was never one to make good decisions. He had to find Geralt. He knew he was alive. 

His mind couldn't dwell on any other possibility.

He finds Roach after three days. She had never been tied up and was simply roaming about Velen. The mare almost seemed happy to see him. Roach was still saddled, with most of Geralt’s things. Hell, even his swords. 

He continues on, deeper into the forest, foolish he knows. He doesn't have heightened senses like a witcher. Jaskier could be dead at any moment if the fancy strikes a beast.. any beast. But, he would never abandon a friend in need. Never. 

That afternoon he finds Geralt's armour. That night he fears for his life. 

He knew he was being stalked. He didn't have a witchers senses, but most humans had a physical reaction to being watched. A strange sense of dread, a prickle at the back of the neck.

And a flash of golden eyes in the underbrush. 

Jaskier had heard stories of wolves in these parts. These beasts were glad to kill humans. 

Jaskier breathes deeply, he can't outrun a wolf. He can't outfight a wolf. Too deep and too far into the woods to find help. He wonders if he's ready to die. So, he sits that night in front of a fire strumming his lute. Singing any song he can. Music is an excellent relaxant. Roach grazes next to him seemingly unperturbed that they both might be made into meals tonight. 

The wolf finally presents itself, a white wolf, with a beautiful pristine coat. It almost looks silvery in the light of his small fire. It carefully, quietly slips out of the forest into the clearing. It doesn't growl or snap at him. Looking at him curiously. It crawls closer and closer until the wolf is practically in his lap. It whines confusedly.

Jaskier's heartrate decides that now would be the best time to skyrocket. He carefully pulls out his dagger...

Fear would have overtaken him if he hadn't noticed a small strange fact. This wolf was wearing a silver medallion. A very familiar wolf medallion. 

And well maybe he's hopped up on panic, and his brain isn't making proper connections. But at this moment perhaps it did. 

" Ge-Geralt?" He asks.

.

.

He knows this scent...

He loves this scent...

This scent is home...

This scent comes with beautiful sounds and bright colours...

No more hunger.

No more death.

He's safe.

The humming subsides. 

.

.

Many things happen at once. The wolf recoils at the sound of its name. It growls and snarls as bones begin to snap and crack. Jaskier shivers at this. He shuts his eyes. The wolf is breathing heavily in pain. It whines. And the whine then becomes a heavy human sigh. 

When Jaskier looks up at the wolf again he finds a man. A witcher he knows all too well. 

A silvery-white wolf pelt hangs on his shoulders. The only thing keeping him safe from the elements.

Geralt’s breathing is heavy. Panting. He looks at Jaskier with such relief. But, there is something different about his appearance. His ears are much more pointed than they were and his teeth are huge and sharp. Bigger than any humans. And Geralt’s nails are more claw-like. 

His golden eyes are the only thing that had remained the same. 

" Jaskier..." Geralt rasps and slurs. 

" oh, my dear," Jaskier says softly pulling Geralt into his arms. " What's happened to you?" 

Geralt’s eyes go wide. He looks scared clutching the wolf pelt closer to himself. As soon as Jaskier pulls him in for a tight hug, Geralt nuzzles in.

The easy affection on Geralt’s end is strange. But he stays there holding Jaskier like he, Geralt, might disappear. 

" I don't know." Geralt says slurring his answer, he sounds confused. Lost. 

Jaskier holds him the entire night. 

.

.

It began with an unassuming gift. Not so much a gift but a curse. One that turned an unsuspecting witcher into a beast. 

They try to get rid of the pelt. This proves to be a very bad idea when Geralt goes to sleep one night only to find himself covered in blood a sinew in the morning. 

Punishment for attempting to run away. 

Sometimes the humming grows so loud Geralt can't help but keep close to Jaskier. The bard holds his hand tightly. Keeping him present and in the moment.

.

.

They decided sometime later after more failed attempts that they may need a professional. A sorceress to be exact.

When they meet Triss in Temeria, she takes one look at the pelt that Geralt removes from his pack and recoils.

" Where did you get this?" She hisses. Her green eyes looking upon the thing with great distaste. 

" It was gifted to me." Geralt answers tiredly.

She grimaces, steps back and weaves her magic over it. 

" A rather cruel gift, if I'm being honest. This pelt was cursed." Triss explains." It's parasitic, looks for a host. And when it finds one forces them to change, and strips the wearer of their humanity." 

" The person who gave it to me said it would make me a better hunter..." Geralt frowns. 

" This person obviously has some sick sense of humour," Jaskier says angrily on Geralt’s behalf. 

" Agreed." Triss nods. " I know you want me to lift the curse. But, the magic in this is old, Geralt..."

Geralt clenches his fists together tightly 

" What do you mean Triss?" Jaskier asks. 

" If its bonded to Geralt ripping it away might destroy him..." She trails off again. " I can't lift it, but I can lessen it. Force it to be less imposing." 

.

.

They settle with that option. Geralt isn't happy. But, it will have to be done. 

And it works. Somewhat. 

The humming comes and goes. 

But it doesn't creep upon him. Not anymore.

Sometimes it overwhelms him forces him to change. Forces him to hunt. 

But other times it's pleasant, as he lays in Jaskiers lap. With teeth too big, claws too sharp, and ears too pointed. Jaskier gently rakes his fingers through his hair, as Geralt dozes. 

Most often he feels truly himself, with Jaskier at his side strumming his lute in the cold evening air.

And the wolf pelt glints in the firelight, remaining unassuming and beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly very self-indulgent. I hope you all liked it and enjoyed it. I have nothing more to say other than that this idea came to me at 4am and wouldn't leave me alone until I was finished writing.


End file.
